The Hollowed of Etheria
by The Azure Dragon Ryjin
Summary: The Hollowed of Etheria, a secretive order of vigilante heroes, has been absent for a millennium. Now, during the brutal war between the Princess Alliance and the Horde, three unlikely heroes band together to reignite the Hollowed, fighting to end this war once and for all, even if they need to battle the twin superpowers of this war-torn world.
1. Kyle's Escape

**_AN: To whoever is about to be reading this story: Hi, how's it going? I'm happy to present The Hollowed of Etheria, a She-Ra fanfiction following two of my favorite characters in the show, Kyle and Catra, as they eventually become vigilantes working outside the Horde and Rebellion to fix the world._**

**_This story also happens a few months after the Battle of Bright Moon, and doesn't follow the story of season 2._**

**_Since this is the first thing I'm posting on , I want to know people's thoughts about my work and things like that. So, if you can spare the time to make a review (good or bad), I would be happy to read it and talk about it._**

**_Within the story, there are some things people may not want to read about, such as:_**

**_-Quite a bit of blood_**

**_-A lot of fighting_****_-_**

**_Swearing, mostly from Catra_**

**_-Depictions of slavery_**

**_-Depictions of torture_**

**_And probably a little bit more, so viewer discretion is advised._****_Anyway, onto the first chapter of The Hollowed of E_****_theria_**

**000**

Kyle resented the morning alarm. At first, he lived with it, dutifully waking up and preparing for the grueling training prepared that day, or rather preparing to be crushed into paste and berated. Now, he utterly hated it as it screeched almost mockingly, knowing how useless he was and still forcing him to rise. It wasn't the only thing he hated, just the most recent one.

Of course, no one knew how he felt. Kyle had made absolutely sure to keep all of his gripes and feelings in check, so that no one would report him to Catra, or Shadow Weaver, or Hordak. It was difficult most days, but Kyle kept going the best he could as the weakest link of his team. Maybe his overwhelming aura of his pathetic existence would end up with something dropping dead out of pity.

Kyle shook his head roughly. _Enough of that. I need to get to the simulation hall._ He checked the clock in the corner of his dorm. _I'm late enough as is._

Scrambling to put his uniform on, Kyle finally stumbled out of his room and made a beeline for the hall, his slow breaths the only sound in the desolate passage. Luckily, there was no one around to lower his self-esteem yet, so Kyle found refuge in his dark thoughts.

_I've spent my whole life here and nothing's come of it,_ Kyle fumed silently. _I tried everything I could to be better, and I get shafted in the end. And then, when I try to make a friend, to have something other than self-pity, I… _His fists clenched, shaking slightly. _I get left behind, thrown away like garbage._

And yet, Kyle knew his discontent meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. He was always treated like garbage in the Horde, so why would he expect better from the Rebellion? It's not like they would want him around when they had princesses and She-Ra at their beck and call. Compared to them, Kyle was nothing special, just some spindly blonde kid who knew how to fight. Even if he snuck into the simulation hall at night a thousand more times to train, they wouldn't care. No one really did.

Burying his icy resentment, Kyle made it to the simulation hall, where Lonnie, Rogelio, and Second-in-Command Catra were waiting, eyes burning into him like lasers, already searching for weakness. On the bright side, Kyle figured out the source of his newfound cynicism. It was a small victory, but he took what he could get.

"You're late again, Kyle," Catra purred, her eyes sparkling with wicked mischief. "How can you keep your friends waiting like this?"

Kyle bit back the venom he almost let loose, opting to say, "I don't have friends," as weak as he could.

Catra smirked. "What's that?" she asked, putting a clawed hand to her cat ear.

"I don't have friends," Kyle repeated loudly, avoiding his superior's gaze.

"Don't be so dramatic, Kyle," Catra sighed, strolling to him. "It doesn't suit you," she crooned, running a claw down his face.

Catra's smug arrogance always rubbed Kyle the wrong way. To be truthful, Kyle only came to the training to see if he could finally best a simulation and wipe that haughty expression off her face. It never happened, of course, but he could dream.

"Come on, Kyle," Lonnie ordered. "Let's hurry up and fail again."

"A-alright," Kyle stuttered, taking his place alongside his leader.

The only good thing about Lonnie was that Kyle knew she despised him. It was relieving to know he wasn't liked to his face, rather than behind his back. It was sad that this was what he looked forward to; being insulted directly on a daily basis, but it's what he had to live with.

The hall shuddered quietly around them, projectors flashing with emerald light. Instead of forming another fake world to train in, the projectors created a familiar face: Adora, the traitor, ready to kill all of them. Despite it being a simulation, Kyle felt a little tinge of fear at facing down the best fighter of their squad.

An audience gathered on the higher floors, peering down on the cadets. In his heart, Kyle knew they were here to mock him, but he didn't care to worry about that. Instead, his eyes were trained on the illusion, the fear slowly replaced with a cold determination that chilled his blood and focused his mind on the task ahead. Tensing up, Kyle widened his stance, ready to move at a moment's notice.

The false Adora lunged forward, quickly closing the distance, her sword glinting. Lonnie intercepted her with staff in hand, growling lowly. Before he even thought to move, Kyle felt a vise close around his arm and pull him away from the clash, throwing him to the side. Registering that Rogelio had been the one to pull him away, Kyle recovered, taking the time to watch the exchange from the distance.

The illusion was good at what it was meant to do; fight. Breaking the lock with Lonnie, the copy kicked her away, dodging a swipe from Rogelio's claws before slamming a fist into his stomach, forcing the lizardman to double over. The copied Adora took the initiative, kicking Rogelio into the ground. From his spot, Kyle watched as Lonnie stabbed at the illusion with her staff. Copied Adora dodged, the weapon passing within a hair of her cheek. Reflexively, the simulation slashed with her sword, and Kyle almost thought he could see a tiny glint of red liquid soar through the air, splattering on the floor.

_Blood? _Kyle realized in horror. _I thought this was just training...are they really trying to kill us?_

Lonnie scrambled back, a growing splotch of red staining her shoulder, her staff abandoned at the copy's feet. The copy picked up the staff, examining it. Sheathing her sword, the copied Adora casually snapped the staff in half, stalking toward the fallen cadet with an empty look in her eyes. Lonnie's face changed from her usual seriousness to disbelief and fear as she attempted to pull herself away from the approaching clone.

That look of helplessness spurred Kyle into action, sprinting toward the copy. In that moment, it didn't matter that he was the weakest link, or that he was looked down upon, or that he hated most of the people in this place. All that mattered was that there was a person who needed help. That thought made him run faster, faster than he ever had before. Everything he learned over the years finally clicked just as he reached the copy.

Leaping forward, Kyle landed a kick square in the copy's side, throwing her away from Lonnie. While she tried to recover, Kyle pulled up Lonnie, keeping an eye on the copy Adora. Rogelio had also recovered, joining the other two cadets in facing off against the copy.

"I didn't need _your_ help, Kyle," Lonnie said poisonously. "I was just caught off guard."

"Cadets are supposed to stick together, right?" Kyle shot back. "Aren't we all cadets here?"

Lonnie regarded Kyle for a moment, her eyes burning with anger. "Just stay out of my way," she spat, charging the copy Adora.

Kyle was about to charge after her when his arm was caught by a rough, scaly hand. Tugging violently, he said to Rogelio, "Let go of me, Rogelio! We need to help her!" The hand closed tighter, so Kyle stopped struggling, watching helplessly.

Lonnie advanced on the copy, throwing a punch with her good arm. With incredible finesse, the copy spun underneath the punch, forcing one makeshift baton into Lonnie's gut, winding her. With the other baton, Copy Adora swung it against her knee, eliciting a crack so loud it popped Kyle's ears. Lonnie cried out, buckling to one knee. The copy violently kicked the cadet across the face, knocking Lonnie's head into the ground.

Kyle had seen enough. Pulling as hard as he could, he finally escaped Rogelio's grip. Stumbling, Kyle pulled himself up and ran as hard as he could, straight toward the copy. This time, however, the copy heard him coming and threw one of the batons toward Kyle. Reflexively, Kyle caught the weapon out of the air, maintaining his unrelenting sprint. He was already swinging when he approached the clone, finally managing to score a good hit on it. The copy faltered, glitching from where it was hit. She turned her gaze onto Kyle, empty eyes staring into him. In return, Kyle straightened, holding the baton in both hands, keeping eye contact with the copy.

_Let's hope all my nightly training pays off,_ Kyle thought. _I didn't push myself that hard for nothing._

The copy engaged Kyle with a violent swipe of her baton, which Kyle barely intercepted. She attacked twice more, each swipe crashing against Kyle's baton with incredible force, buckling his arms each time she hit. Noting his disadvantage, Kyle scrambled back, giving himself space to regroup.

_She's too strong to block,_ Kyle mused. _I'll need to get around her and take her down, but… _He stared down at his arms, shaking like twigs. _My arms are already weakening. I need to finish this _now_._

Copy Adora launched forward, abandoning the baton and pulling her sword off her back. Rolling out of the way, Kyle ran toward the weapon as fast as he could, hoping he could get it without being beheaded. Luckily, Kyle couldn't hear the copy chasing him, which gave him time to pick up the baton. Turning to see what happened to the copy, Kyle saw Rogelio fighting with her, his thick skin deflecting her sword blows. For a moment, it looked like Rogelio had gained the upper hand as he began his assault, forcing the copy on the defensive with powerful punches.

Kyle felt a little relieved, but he knew the copy wouldn't be occupied for long. Taking the opportunity, he shot toward the copy, batons readied. As he approached, Kyle dropped into a slide, knocking the copy's feet from under her. Recovering quickly, Kyle gripped the batons tightly, before driving them into the copy's skull as hard as he could.

Glitching violently, the copy let out a garbled final breath and disappeared into nothingness. Kyle looked down at the space where the body was and felt instantly ill, his stomach queasy. He had crushed the copy's skull, _killed_ it. It didn't matter that it was an empty shell of Adora, a copy made to be destroyed. It felt like he had truly killed her. The feeling was not something he relished.

"How pathetic." Kyle snapped from his thoughts to face Lonnie, who was positively seething with hatred. "You can't even kill someone without losing your lunch, can you?"

Kyle finally had enough. "What, exactly, is your problem with me?" he asked quietly, hands tightly clenching around the batons. "Why does it matter that I can't kill someone in cold blood like you can?"

"Because I shouldn't be outdone by a weakling like you!" Lonnie snapped, completely losing her cool. "You're completely worthless, a meat shield to be used when we're in trouble!" As she spoke, Lonnie approached Kyle, almost towering over the shorter cadet. "Everyone here would be better off if you just died!"

Kyle felt like he'd been stabbed. He knew Lonnie didn't like him, but that the hatred ran so deep surprised him. A part of him wanted to break down and cry in front of everyone, so the audience could have their laugh and finally leave him alone. Then again, he'd already broken down into tears several times in the last month, something he wasn't very keen to repeat again. Instead, Kyle took a quiet breath and approached Lonnie, meeting her burning glare with his own calm gaze.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind next time we're in the field, Lonnie," Kyle said, his tone even. "If by some miracle everyone misses," he continued, "save a knife in the ribs for me, alright?"

"Gladly," Lonnie snarled at him, though Kyle swore that the hate in her eyes flickered for just a moment. He didn't have time to ask, however, as the lead cadet stalked away toward the locker room, a hand on her bloodied shoulder.

With a quiet sigh, Kyle turned to head back toward the barracks, only to find himself running into a wall in the form of Rogelio standing before him. Looking up, Kyle saw the reptilian cadet's eyes regarding him with the barest hint of pity. "Don't bother," Kyle said weakly, stepping past him before the lizard could attempt to say a word. He probably wouldn't have paid attention anyway, as one thought was at the forefront of Kyle's mind.

He needed to leave the Horde.

**000**

The halls seemed to stretch on forever as Kyle walked urgently to the dorms, ready to put his plan into motion. He tried not to seem too urgent, but time was of the essence if he was to pull this off without immediately getting shot at. Sucking in a breath, Kyle walked a little faster, trying to banish the image of failing from his mind as he approached the dorms.

Entering the room, Kyle went straight for his cot and pulled out a piece of paper from underneath the frame. Skimming the words one last time, he couldn't help but feel a little bit ecstatic about what he was doing, a nervous energy that had him bouncing on his toes. Taking a steadying breath, Kyle folded the paper and shoved it into his pocket, practically bounding across the room to the ventilation system. With practiced ease, Kyle slipped each screw loose, taking off the vent cover as quietly as he could and placing it on the floor.

_This is it,_ Kyle thought happily, unable to keep the smile off his face. _I can leave this miserable place for good!_

Slipping into the vent, Kyle replaced the cover as perfectly as he could, making sure no sound escaped. Pulling out a flashlight from his other pocket, Kyle clicked it on, relieved that the light actually worked, and began progressing through the shaft, completing the first step in leaving his life behind.

When he was well into the ventilation network, Kyle shifted into a sitting position, thanking his small stature as much as he could, while pulling out his written plan and reading the second step: Steal Horde gear from Entrapta. Kyle read over the words twice, committing them to memory before continuing down the shaft.

Kyle didn't particularly _want_ to steal from the mechanic princess. Most of the time, he didn't want to do anything that would get him into trouble. However, Entrapta did create a new prototype piece of tech that no one seemed to know the specifics about, though she did say it was some kind of suit. Even if it was useless, Kyle could try to sell it somewhere if he needed to, and he could end up depriving the Horde of a weapon in their arsenal.

A few minutes of climbing through ducts led Kyle to the vent that lead to Entrapta's quarters. Silently unfastening the screws, Kyle pulled the grate into the shaft and looked below, making sure there was nothing that he could land on that would reveal his presence. Shifting his legs to the opening, Kyle slowly began to slide out of the vent, dropping down with only the slightest sound on the metal floor, eyes scanning for anyone else that was in the room. Finding no one, Kyle let out a soft sigh of relief before heading toward his target; Entrapta's lab, a place where he spent a lot of time "guarding" the princess while she worked on improving the Horde's weaponry. At the time, he didn't think it was useful to have to all those sleepless nights and have nothing to show for it, but this time, it might finally work in his favor.

Pulling off one of his gloves, Kyle placed his hand on the biometric scanner, praying to whatever was out there that the scanner was actually keyed into his DNA. For a few moments, the scanner read his handprint, each sweep adding to the crushing anxiety that weighed on Kyle's heart. When the fear threatened to overwhelm him, the scanner beeped happily, the door sliding open with a hiss. Despite being so relieved he could collapse, Kyle stayed on his feet, slowly progressing into the lab.

One thing Kyle noticed was the lifelessness of the place when Entrapta wasn't around fiddling with her project of the day. The dark screens and dead machinery made the place look more like a graveyard, which added an extra weight of fear on top of the anxiety Kyle was already experiencing. Doing his best to push the overwhelming dread aside, Kyle searched about the room for any sort of suit, making sure anything he disturbed was immediately put back into place. Despite his efforts, Kyle came up empty-handed, which worried him. He didn't know how long he would be unnoticed, but this "suit" Entrapta had made might be too dangerous to let the Horde keep around. Calming himself, Kyle rechecked every part of the room meticulously, hunting for anything resembling a suit.

The search seemed hopeless, and Kyle was just about to give up until a metallic glint caught his eye. Whirling, Kyle held up his flashlight, scanning for the source of the glint. Sweeping the light over the corner, Kyle found the glint's source; a black bag leaning dejectedly against the wall, a small note taped to it. Approaching the bag slowly, Kyle carefully reached out a hand, ready to recoil immediately if there was a trap. After what seemed like an eternity, Kyle's fingers finally felt the smoothness of the bag, with no trap to be seen. Forcibly loosening some of his tension, Kyle reached forward, tearing the note from the bag.

"'DO NOT TOUCH, Experimental Horde Gear!'" Kyle read, managing to make out the scrawled mess that was Entrapta's handwriting. "Guess this is it," he thought, taking the bag and throwing it over his shoulder. "Now for Step Three."

Step Three was going to be the most difficult, because it would mean escaping from the Fright Zone into the Whispering Woods, then disappearing forever. However, as soon as he tried to escape, Horde soldiers would start trying to hunt him down. Still, Kyle wasn't going to back down now. He needed to try, whether or not he could truly make it into the Woods. Returning back to the vent in Entrapta's quarters, Kyle scrambled up the wall, gripping onto the vent opening and pulling himself inside, not bothering to replace the vent cover. If they knew he was escaping, they would know what he was doing eventually. No need to cover his tracks anymore.

Moving quickly through the vents, Kyle barely even breathed as he navigated the maze of passages to the outer walls of Hordak's palace. Finding the vent cover, Kyle meticulously pulled off the cover, the cool air of the Fright Zone slamming into him with small, sharp needles. Peering out over the edge, Kyle spotted a series of pipes leading down to the ground. Taking a deep breath, Kyle dropped down onto the first pipe gently, making sure his footing was stable before continuing, moving toward the next pipe. Smoothly, Kyle dropped onto the next pipe below, steadied himself, and continued on.

When Kyle dropped to the third pipe, he heard an explosion of noise from the right, followed by a violent impact above him. Quickly turning his attention to the right, Kyle spotted a green flash across the city and completely panicked, sprinting forward as fast as he could to the next pipe, dropping down with much less finesse as another shot punched a hole in the wall in front of him. Fueled by adrenaline and panic, Kyle ran to the end of the pipe, only to find there was no other pipe below him. Instead, there was a building around eleven feet below, and nowhere else to go. Behind him, another shot impacted the wall, nearly scratching Kyle.

Approaching the edge of the pipe, Kyle looked across the yawning gap between him and the nearest solid ground; a dingy apartment building with a mostly flat roof. _Seems like __jumping across is__ the only way I'm getting out of this, _the cadet thought. _Let's see...it's about eleven feet away and ten feet below the pipe I'm on, so I should be able to get across...right?_

On instinct, Kyle scrambled back along the pipe as a shot slammed directly into the place he was standing. Stumbling to his feet, Kyle ran as far back as he could along the pipe before turning, heart thumping as he stared at the stretch of metal before him.

_Well, no time like the present, _Kyle told himself. _Only got one shot at this, so let's make it count_

Steeling himself as much as he could, Kyle broke into a fast sprint, quickly closing the distance to the edge of the pipe. Just as he approached the end, Kyle took one last breath and leaped, leaving the safety of the pipe and hoping to whatever was out there that he wouldn't die as he fell through the empty air. Looking down, Kyle watched the street pass below, and felt relieved as the roof of the building came into view underneath him, even as the impact of landing sent shockwaves through his legs, forcing Kyle to stumble in an effort to recover. He wasn't dead, though, which was better off than he thought he was going to be.

The violent blare of alarms began to sound throughout the Fright Zone, shocking Kyle back into focusing on his escape. He wouldn't be able to outrun the entire Horde on foot, since his stamina was already dwindling. However, there were several skiff stations around the Fright Zone as a way for soldiers to easily transport themselves across the city. Kyle had forced himself to memorize the station locations in case he finally decided to go through with leaving, and it seemed that today would be the day he would finally use that information. With the plan in mind, Kyle forced himself to run, fueled by his dwindling stamina and determination, in one last gamble to escape.

**000**

The wind tore at Kyle with icy fingers as he navigated the skiff through the dingy city, breathing silent thanks to whatever had given him such luck. Somehow, his Horde credentials hadn't been erased from the guard installations, so "borrowing" a skiff was an absolute breeze. Still, something felt off to Kyle. There were no guards around, even while the alarms were blaring violently throughout the Fright Zone. The citizens had all disappeared from the streets as well, making the city far more desolate and empty. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Kyle pressed the skiff's lever down, driving the vehicle through the narrow streets.

In a few minutes, Kyle finally found himself on the main road out of the Fright Zone. Looking ahead to the massive gate, Kyle saw why there were no guards on the streets as a Horde tank rolled to the front of a blockade of other skiffs, blocking the only route to escape.

Once again, cold fear tried to worm its way into Kyle's heart, but he quickly stifled the feeling. Now wasn't the time to despair, even though it would _definitely _be warranted. Instead, Kyle slammed the acceleration lever to the floor of the skiff, the small vehicle roaring toward the massive war machine. Slowly, the cannon rotated toward Kyle, slinging out a shell. Veering violently, Kyle evaded the shot, the skiff wobbling unsteadily as it tried to recover its equilibrium. Gritting his teeth, Kyle pulled on the lever, stabilizing the skiff and darting past the tank toward the blockade. Watching as the assembled soldiers readied their weapons, Kyle jerked the lift lever, forcing the skiff into the air and barely cresting the top of the blockade.

As he shot through the main gate of the Fright Zone, Kyle let out a whoop of excitement, forcing the skiff to go as fast as it could go. He did it, he finally did it! He escaped the constant bullying of the Horde and was free to make himself what ever he wanted! But... what now? He couldn't go to the Rebellion, if him getting thrown onto a pile of his teammates was any consideration. The Horde obviously didn't want him, which was why he left in the first place. The only thing Kyle could do was head to another kingdom and blend in, before figuring out what in the world he was going to do next. Right now, however, he needed to get to the Whispering Woods, which were on the horizon and quickly approaching.

Approaching the border, Kyle pulled back on the acceleration lever, slowing to a comfortable speed as he wove through the trees, finally being able to get a chance to breathe without being shot at by any snipers or blown apart by a tank or killed in a thousand other ways. With nothing else to do, Kyle's mind wandered far away from the Whispering Woods, away to some other place where he could live far better than he once did.

_Maybe I can head into Plumeria, _Kyle thought, so lost in his head that he didn't hear two metallic noises on the underside of the skiff. _Then again, the whole plant thing may be a little _too _much for me. Maybe I could-_

Kyle snapped from his thoughts, hearing a strange beeping sound that slowly rose in pitch and tempo. Halting the vehicle, Kyle started to look over the skiff to find the source of the ever increasing beeping. Finding nothing on the edges, Kyle looked underneath, spotting two black discs with red lights attached to the fuel cells of the skiff, a shrill whistle coming from each of them. Scrambling back in alarm, Kyle whirled around and started to run as the Horde seeker mines went off.

The explosion threw Kyle into a tree, ribs cracking from the impact. Crying out, Kyle lay limp on the ground, his chest feeling like it was on fire as the world started to darken around him. Rolling onto his back, Kyle felt a wetness on his side, raising his hand to find dark blood coating his glove. Dropping his arm, Kyle let out a long, rattling sigh, feeling suddenly lightheaded.

_Just... my luck..._, Kyle thought as he finally gave into unconsciousness.

**000**

**_EN: As usual, Kyle ended up with a bad hand. Obviously, this isn't the end, so I encourage you to stay tuned, and I hope the chapter was as good as it should be._**

**_Leave a review, good or bad, and I'll take it into account. With that said and done, I'll see you next time._**


	2. Catra's Lament

**_AN: And we're back in the wonderful world of The Hollowed of Etheria. I'd like to thank everyone who read the first chapter of my fanfiction and gave feedback, because feedback is real important to writing._** **_This time, we get to follow Catra, one of the other main characters in our tale of vigilantes kicking people's teeth in._**

**_But first, I want to explain why it took so long for a chapter 2. Really, it comes down to wanting to make sure I can make the best chapter I can, and also because of a little bit of me being lazy. I'll try to be better when it comes to updating unless something comes up._**

**_I should note that I don't own any characters or locations belonging to She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. The only things I own are my original characters and locations._**

**_Also, viewer discretion is advised for the chapter because it's fairly brutal._**

**_With that said and done, let's move onto the next chapter._**

**000**

Catra had to admit one thing while staring at the vent in Entrapta's quarters; Kyle had skill.

She would never admit it aloud, of course, but there was something about the meticulous way the escape was executed that drew Catra's attention. Perhaps it was the way Kyle had gotten through most of the security through the vents, or perhaps how careful he was in not letting himself be traced. Maybe it was because Kyle had actually managed to escape the Horde, something that Catra envied him for.

How in the entirety of all Etheria did Kyle, the meat shield, the _weakest link_, manage to successfully pull off his own escape by himself? It was baffling to all the Horde, including Catra herself. She supposed that with enough motivation, even some weak little kid can pull off some grand escape. Honestly, had Kyle still been in the Horde, she might have given him a bit of credit. Still, it didn't much matter, considering that he was supposedly dead now.

The report filed was simple: The Horde's seeker mines had locked onto Kyle's stolen skiff and supposedly blew him up with the vehicle. Horde scavengers inspecting the site even confirmed that there was not even a speck of the spineless cadet to be found, so many believed him to be dead. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that someway, somehow, Kyle was still alive and kicking.

"Catra?" Catra tensed as she heard Scorpia's voice from the hall behind her, trying to find a safe spot right before the Force Captain found her. Unfortunately, there was absolutely nowhere for her to hide, so the only thing Catra could do was wait for the inevitable and hope she would still be able to walk after the crushing hug she was going to get.

Finally, Scorpia poked her head into the room, short white hair bouncing with the motion. Grinning widely, the Force Captain squealed, "There you are, Catra!" before charging full speed toward Catra, arms wide open.

Catra was barely able to do so much as blink as Scorpia wrapped her in a bone crushing hug, the sides of her pincers cracking Catra's spine so loudly that the second-in-command was a little afraid she would never walk again. Straining against the vise she was in, Catra couldn't even move her arms, and she didn't think that air was even entering her lungs.

"Scorpia," Catra gasped out, leveling a glare toward the Force Captain, "put... me down... now."

Reluctantly, Scorpia let Catra out of the hug, finding the ground much more interesting. "Sorry, Catra," she mumbled quietly.

Catra let out a long sigh. "It's fine," she assured with a casual wave. "Now, do you have anything to report?"

"Not really," Scorpia said, scratching her head. "Entrapta's still freaking out about losing that suit she'd been working on, Rogelio's been unresponsive, and Lonnie's been...surprisingly quiet," She nestled a pincer under her chin. "Weird, huh? You'd swear Lonnie hated the kid, yet she's not happy about him dying. Kinda makes you think, doesn't it?"

"To be completely honest, Scorpia, my focus isn't on the cadets right now," Catra admitted. "That damn suit Entrapta keeps raving about is a different story."

"Want me to get her over here?" Scorpia asked

"I've got a quicker way to do that," Catra said, pulling a small circular communicator from her belt. "I'll just use this." Taking a breath, Catra pulled out every single scrap of patience she had and clicked on the communicator.

The machine whirred to life, a green light flaring from the center of the circle, which slowly formed the image of Entrapta, flustered and out of breath, her purple hair sticking out in random places. Catra sucked in another breath. _Here we go, _she thought, pressing the audio button.

"Entrapta," Catra greeted, keeping her tone cool.

"Hey Catra!" Entrapta said, breathing heavily. "I can't talk right now, I need to-"

"No, you're gonna tell me everything about that goddamn suit you made and why it's so important," Catra growled lowly, keeping her face expressionless. "If you've been freaking out over this thing, it must be important."

"I... alright," the princess conceded, "You're in my quarters, right?" At Catra's nod, she said, "Then I'll meet you there."

"Be quick about it," Catra clicked the communicator off, relieved it didn't take too long to convince the hyperactive princess.

"You know, we don't have to do this now, Catra," Scorpia said. "If it's too much to handle, we can delay meeting with her.

"Like hell," Catra replied, "I want to be done with this as soon as possible."

Scorpia sighed. "If you say so, Catra."

After a few moments, Entrapta burst into the room, her mechanic gear dirtied with grease and oil from working with the Horde's robots. Without a word to Catra or Scorpia, the princess made a beeline for her computer, her hair already reaching toward her computer and typing furiously. Before Catra knew it, the screen displayed a blueprint of a suit far different than any Horde made armor Catra had ever seen.

"This is my project," Entrapta stated, "the Horde Phantom Suit."

Unlike every other juggernaut of destruction the Horde created, this suit seemed far more subtle, with flexible plating across the torso and shoulders and a long coat attached to the main body. The bracers and boots, while less flexible, still followed the mold of being lighter armor than normal Horde gear. Finally, Catra noticed something around the suit's neck; a small pointed mask, though she wasn't sure of the purpose yet.

"The reason why it's so important is because it's the only stealth suit the Horde has," Entrapta explained, looking over the design. "The Horde seems to have forgotten that subtlety is just as important as having weapons of mass destruction." She turned to Catra, her hair still typing at the keyboard. "You know the value of spying, don't you?"

"Yeah," Catra agreed. Spying was _far _more important than the Horde would ever give it credit for. Instead, the Horde constantly attempted to overpower their opponents by sheer brutality, which worked when you wanted to strike fear into the enemy and utterly annihilate them, but not everyone got scared away and sometimes fought back, becoming martyrs for the Rebellion. The only time the Horde played spy was in Mystacor, destroying its invisibility spell and exposing the kingdom to attack. Perhaps she would give that suggestion to Lord Hordak at some point.

Entrapta nodded, pleased that Catra was seeing her side. "That's not the most important part of it, though," she said, turning back to the blueprint. "What's important is what it can do."

Pressing a few keys, the blueprinted suit splintered into several parts; the main armor, the bracers and boots, and the mask. With a few more presses, the main piece of the suit took center stage, while the other components faded into the background.

"The main suit is resistant to melee weapons and projectiles of similar strength to a standard Horde rifle," Entrapta began, still typing away. "Giving the plates flexibility allowed me to add agility without sacrificing defensive capability."

"But what about the coat?" Scorpia pointed out as she ran a pincer over her stinger. "It seems a bit too flashy."

"Mainly aesthetics, but it is made up of woven metal fibers for added protection," Entrapta replied, her hair pulling a tablet into her hand. "It was a spur of the moment decision."

"The coat _really _doesn't matter, Scorpia," Catra groaned, growing more impatient by the second. "Entrapta, can you continue?"

"Certainly." Swiping a finger across her tablet, Entrapta looked up at the next piece of the suit; the boots and bracers. "So, the bracers are meant as the main line of defense for the user, due to the dart shooters mounted on top of the arm. I've also added short-range grapple hooks to the underside of the bracers for increased mobility."

Tapping on her screen, the boots zoomed in, encompassing a larger part of the monitor. "The boots are less extravagant, since the only special attribute they have is the silent rubber on the soles," Entrapta explained, a hand absentmindedly fiddling with her hair. "They do have exceptional traction for help in climbing, though."

Catra nodded. "I see. So, what about that mask? What makes it so interesting?"

At the mention of the mask, Entrapta brightened even more, if that was even possible. "It's the magnum opus of the suit!" she exclaimed, the sharp noise cutting into Catra's ears. "It's got night and thermal vision, a zoom function, audio communication, the ability to mark enemies and their weapons, resistance to light and sonic attacks, and a few other features I threw in for good measure!" The mechanic let out a contented sigh. "It's perfect."

"This whole suit seems like a crutch," Catra pointed out.

"Then I need to make it clear that all these tools are near worthless without a skilled user," Entrapta explained, turning to face Catra. "For example, you would be able to use the Phantom Suit _far _more effectively than, say, Scorpia would. No offense, Scorpia."

"Hey, I know where my strengths lie, and it _definitely _isn't stealth," Scorpia said, indicating her stocky build in comparison to Catra's lithe figure. "Besides, that armor doesn't seem to have too much protection."

"It doesn't," Entrapta conceded. "Because of its main use being stealth, it's not meant for frontline fighting."

"As long as it can hold up in a fight," Catra said. "Any other negatives to know about it?"

Entrapta nodded. "The suits aren't efficient to make," she said. "Each suit needs to be custom made to ensure the quality is up to standard."

"Why not mass produce them once the quality is up to par?" Scorpia asked, looking at the armor. "They don't seem hard to make, and if an issue of material, we cam just recycle other Horde armor."

Entrapta whirled toward the Force Captain, fire burning in her crimson eyes. "Because, Scorpia, Horde metal is cheap and ineffective," the princess pointed out, her tone harsh. "I can't make the suits mass produced and hope that _somehow _the armor won't crumple like paper from the slightest impact."

Catra stood stock still, looking at the surprised expression Scorpia had plastered on her face. The two knew that Entrapta was _incredibly _particular about her machinery, but this was the first time she'd been so adamant about her current project. "This must be real important to you," Catra said carefully, "if you want to make sure it stays away from the assembly line."

Entrapta took a moment to regain her composure, the fire in her eyes winking out. "It _is _important," she mumbled. "I want to make sure it's perfect, otherwise the suit won't be half of what it could be, and all the work I've put into this project will be for nothing." The princess looked back up to the monitor, to her creation. "That's why I'm upset at losing the prototype. I have to build it all over again, putting it through stress test after stress test before I could even consider it functional enough to be a prototype."

"...Well, at least you can build another one," Scorpia said, attempting to lighten the mood. "Kyle only nabbed the actual prototype, not the blueprints."

"Speaking of Kyle, we still haven't found his body," Catra said. "All we've found is a little bit of blood and that's it," She narrowed her eyes in thought. "There should be something _more__, _and yet we've come up with nothing."

"He was caught in an explosion, Catra," Scorpia pointed out. "Kyle's probably nothing more than dust now."

"You'd be right, if not for the location of the blood," Entrapta interrupted. "The scavengers reported blood near a tree that was far enough from the explosion's center as to not be vaporized, as you say." She fiddled with her hair absentmindedly. "As such, we should be prepared for any eventuality, including Kyle's possible survival."

"Right," Catra nodded. "Scorpia, coordinate with the scavenger teams, make sure they comb the area for any trace of Kyle. Ensure that he is dead."

"On it," Scorpia said, then paused. "Wait, what about Lonnie and Rogelio?"

Catra waved dismissively. "Deal with them when the need arises," she ordered. "As long as their personal feelings do not compromise their efficiency, do nothing."

Scorpia nodded, leaving the room to carry out her orders, leaving Catra and Entrapta alone in complete silence. Waiting until she could no longer hear Scorpia's footsteps, Catra sighed and began walking toward the door. Just before she crossed the threshold, Catra felt a hand on her shoulder and whirled to see Entrapta, the tech princess giving her a knowing look.

"You're going to see Shadow Weaver again, aren't you?" Entrapta said quietly, her gaze meeting Catra's unflinchingly.

Catra subconsciously puffed herself up. "None of your concern, Entrapta," she snarled. "Work on the Phantom Suit, since you have quite a bit of work to do on it."

Entrapta still stared Catra down. "Not until you tell me why you feel you have to visit her." Before Catra could respond, she added, "And don't say it's because you like to see her jailed. I need the _real _reason."

"Why?" Catra spat violently. "My personal doings aren't any of your damn business."

"Because you become distracted, irritable, and sullen every time," Entrapta listed. "Maybe it's time to stop reflecting on the past and just _move forward_."

A feral rage boiled in Catra's blood toward Entrapta. She had _no _reason to put her nose into her superior's business, _especi__ally_ when it came to personal business. For a fleeting moment, Catra entertained the thought of cutting Entrapta's throat and leaving her to bleed out. However, that would only give Entrapta's point more validity. As such, Catra did the next best thing.

Stalking forward, Catra kept her eyes locked on Entrapta's, claws sliding out in a not-so-subtle threat. "You won't speak of my personal dealings ever again, Entrapta," Catra declared, her tone sharp. "The next time you do, I'll have your own robots dismember you, before I have them place the desecrated remains around your kingdom." Baring her fangs, she looked down onto the mechanic princess. "Do I make myself clear, or do you need a demonstration?"

Fear shined in Entrapta's eyes, destroying her resolve. "I understand, Catra," the princess whimpered, bowing her head.

"Good," Catra replied, savoring the victory. "Continue your project."

Entrapta did as commanded, fearfully shuffling her way toward her laboratory, head still down in a show of submission. As soon as Entrapta closed the lab door, Catra left the princess' quarters, feeling no small amount of pride at her ability to make people bend to her whims. However, there was another feeling swirling within her stomach, a sickening feeling she couldn't put her finger on. Opting to ignore the feeling, Catra turned right from Entrapta's quarters, heading down the hall toward the elevator. Entering the lift, Catra hit the button leading to the prisons.

It was time to visit Shadow Weaver.

**000**

_Deep breaths,_ Catra reminded herself as she walked down the eerily quiet cell block, the click of her claws on the metal cutting through the near impenetrable silence. Normally, Catra would be far more comfortable down in the prisons if not for two reasons: One, this particular cell block was solitary confinement, a repressive place that seemed to crush anyone who entered, regardless if they were imprisoned or not. The second reason was Shadow Weaver.

_Shadow Weaver, _Catra snarled in her mind. That name was a dark thing for Catra to remember. It was the name of the person that made Catra's life a living hell in her youth. It was the name that left a lasting scar on Catra's mind, the name that made her wish for someone else in her life instead of the dark witch. Yet, despite her seething hatred for the dark sorceress, Catra was still about to visit her once again.

Catra had tried so many justifications for why she kept coming down to see her old tormentor. She first told herself that it was because she liked seeing Shadow Weaver broken and defeated, a shell of her former self, but that excuse never held up. The next one she tried was that Shadow Weaver represented what would happen to her if she failed Hordak. That excuse worked for a while, but it eventually wore thin. After a while, Catra begrudgingly accepted the real reason she visited.

Shadow Weaver was the only mother she'd ever had.

It hurt to admit, but it was the truth. As an orphan, Catra had never known the love of a parent. Instead, she had only known constant belittlement and disgust from Shadow Weaver, something that made Catra from the emotional little girl to the vicious beast she was now. Despite the bitter hatred, Catra did have a softness for Shadow Weaver, something she could never quite crush. Instead, she chalked up the softness to longing for a real parent to love and adore her. It was easier than calling it what it was; unconditional affection.

Catra snapped from her thoughts when she approached the cell door, a simple metal sliding door with a small slit for food and a biometric scanner. Placing a hand onto the scanner, Catra had to resist clenching her jaw on the off chance she would end up breaking her teeth from the pressure. Instead, she breathed the stale, metallic air, exhaling sharply as the scamner beeped and the door opened.

As usual, Shadow Weaver looked like a wreck. She still wore her red robes, but they no longer billowed with magical power. The mask she constantly covered her face with was cracked, the red gem dead in the socket it lay in. Her hair also seemed less lively, no longer pulled around by the shadowy power she once held within herself. As Catra entered, the sorceress raised her head, squinting in distaste.

"So, you've returned," Shadow Weaver crooned, her tone icy as always.

"I have," Catra replied through a fake smile. "There's something about seeing you all bound up and defeated," she added, falling back on her old excuse.

The witch chuckled darkly. "Save the posturing for someone less sharp and tell me why you're _really _here."

Catra was a little taken aback, her mind scrambling for something to retort with so she could somehow salvage her shield of false bravado. As she tried to figure out anything to say, Catra swore she could hear Shadow Weaver smile under her mask, which made her want to strangle the witch to death here and now. Instead, Catra took a breath, keeping her eyes placed firmly on Shadow Weaver's.

"Why I come here is none of your business," Catra growled lowly.

"Did I touch a nerve?" Shadow Weaver asked, her tone a mockery of concern.

Catra's blood boiled at the question, forcing her body to tense, claws extended. At this, Shadow Weaver laughed, uncaring of the beast in front of her. "Are you trying to threaten me, dear Catra?" she crooned sweetly. "If so, you'll need to try harder than that."

Noticing what the sorceress was doing, Catra forced herself to relax, her claws retracting into her fingers. Keeping her eyes on Shadow Weaver, Catra let ice fill her veins, countering her rage with apathy. "Threatening you would give me nothing," Catra said, voice cold. "Killing you would only give me a hint of satisfaction." She shook her head. "No, I think I'll make you watch as I achieve things you _never _could."

"Do you honestly believe that?" Shadow Weaver scoffed. "You're an even bigger fool than I realized."

"Ah, _there's _the belittlement I was waiting for," Catra sighed with false relief. "I was worried you lost your bitterness toward me."

Shadow Weaver sneered from behind her mask. "I will always find you as lesser than the dirt under my feet, _cat_," she spat. "Every single person with half a brain will think the same."

Catra snickered. "Well, even if they do think that way, they can't say anything about it, otherwise...," She held up a hand, claws glimmering in the dim light. "Well, they'll be a little too dead to complain."

"I doubt anyone is scared of you killing them," Shadow Weaver sighed. "After all, the only reason you were of any note was because you dragged down Adora."

Catra froze, the words igniting her blood. "What was that, _witch_?" she snarled through clenched teeth.

"You heard me, Catra," Shadow Weaver snapped. "You're not important without Adora holding your hand and dragging you along." The witch clenched her fists. "You're just an unloved, pathetic brat that _wishes _she could be anything more than worthless-"

Catra's fist was already in motion, slamming into Shadow Weaver's cheek, knocking off the mask. The witch had no chance of reacting as Catra's other fist crashed into her nose, a crack cutting through the cell as blood spilled out. Seething with pure anger, Catra stomped Shadow Weaver's head into the metal floor of the cell, the smallest thread of reasoning keeping her from crushing the sorceress' head into paste. Instead, she lifted her foot from Shadow Weaver's skull, pulling her up by the collar and glaring at the disfigured witch with an expression of animalistic fury.

"Listen here, you goddamn coward," Catra spat, barely able to think through the cloud of rage. "You speak another word about how I dragged down Adora and I'll show you what my claws can do to a frail, pathetic witch like _you_."

"Your threats are worthless," Shadow Weaver wheezed, coughing up blood. "You're still a child, and you will always be a child, useless and ignorant."

With a roar of anger, Catra punched Shadow Weaver again, and again, and again, blood splattering across the floor with each blow she landed. She couldn't even see Shadow Weaver anymore through the haze of red that obscured her vision, only knowing the witch was there through the warm blood on her hands. A savage, burning joy kindled in Catra's chest, begging her to continue this mad beating until Shadow Weaver was nothing more than a bloodsoaked corpse. Oblidging that madness inside her, Catra raised her hand one last time, crimson coated claws sparkling as she went to tear out her tormentor's throat once and for all.

_Catra, no!_

Catra's body locked up, the fog of rage clearing as her claws stopped just inches away from Shadow Weaver's throat. _Adora?_ Confused, she looked around, ears perked up, hunting for that oh-so-familiar voice that sounded in her head. Finding nothing out of place, Catra turned back to Shadow Weaver and almost threw up, dropping the witch to the ground as she scrambled backward, her back hitting the wall.

_What the hell did I just do? _Catra cried in her mind, a sick feeling roiling around in her stomach. _What happened to talking to her, Catra?_

A irregular wheezing entered Catra's ears, pulling her back into reality. This time, she could pinpoint the source as Shadow Weaver. Hearing the wheezing for a moment, Catra's throat began to tighten, dread seeping into her as she realized Shadow Weaver was _laughing_. Despite being beaten to within an inch of her life, the witch was laughing.

"Well done... Catra," Shadow Weaver gasped, her face a bloodied, broken mess. "I've... molded... you well."

"...What?" Catra asked with the barest hint of a whimper. "What do you mean 'molded' me?"

Shadow Weaver smiled, teeth stained with blood. "Poor, simple child...," she sneered. "With only... a few pulls on your emotions... over the years, I...," Her words cut off as she coughed up blood. "I made you a monster... and you never knew it."

Catra felt sick. She wanted to deny everything, to rage at what Shadow Weaver had said, but she couldn't. As Catra thought about it, it lined up too well. All the belittlement and venom from her so-called mother was meant to twist Catra into nothing more than some sort of wild animal, and she never knew her strings were being pulled. Damn her childhood innocence! If not for her wanting anyone who could possibly be a parent to her, she would seen it coming.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Catra asked, her voice breaking. "I was a kid, a goddamn _kid_, and you decided to turn me into an animal?"

"The animal is... the only worthwhile part of you...," Shadow Weaver explained. "The beast doesn't hesitate... unlike the girl." With an unsteady hand, the witch motioned to her beaten, bloodsoaked face, nodding to Catra. "Case in point..."

Catra looked down at herself, sickened by how much crimson was on her. Her hand shook, forcing drops of blood to drip from her outstretched claws. Again, she felt the urge to deny it, the urge to scream at Shadow Weaver about how wrong she was, the urge to pull out this bestial hatred and abandon it, but the truth of the matter weighed on her. Only a monster could do what she did to the sorceress. There was no way to escape the reality of it; for those few bloody moments, Catra was a monster.

"You see...?" Shadow Weaver asked, seeing the realization in Catra's eyes. "You see how vicious the monster is..., don't you?" The witch chuckled darkly. "Why try to fight it?"

Snapped from her thoughts, Catra turned her gaze onto Shadow Weaver, her breathing labored. "No..." Catra forced out. "No, I am Catra. I am strong, I am cunning, and I will _never _be the monster." She hesitated for a moment, staring at the blood on her hands. "Never again."

"Deny it if you must," Shadow Weaver sighed, finally tired of tormenting Catra. "Now... get out of my sight."

Catra stood, not saying another word to her "mother" as she exited the cell, stepping back into the cold, seemingly endless expanse of solitary. With a slow breath, Catra started her trek back to the elevator.

_Just need to clean myself up and go to sleep, _Catra thought, claws clicking on metal. _After that, I can pretend today never even happened._

Bolstered by this thought, Catra put a bit more of a spring in her step as she approached the elevator, stepping inside and pressing a button.

Next stop, her quarters.

**000**

_"Catra? Catra, wake up!" a tiny voice called._

_Five-year-old Catra groaned. Couldn't she just sleep in peace? The day was comfortably warm, and the grass beneath was soft. What kind of dummy wouldn't understand the greatness of sleeping on a day like this?_

_Something tugged on her arm. "Catra, come on, wake up! Today's gonna go to waste if you keep sleeping!"_

_"Stop bothering me...," Catra mumbled, rolling onto her side. "Let me sleep, alright?"_

_The tug happened again. "Catra, please wake up?"_

_Catra groaned loudly, but she forced herself to open her eyes. "What is it, Adora? I want to sleep."_

_As soon as Catra noticed her, Adora poked her head into Catra's vision, smiling brightly, her missing tooth making the smile look lopsided. "Shadow Weaver's allowing us to mess around today, and I don't want to waste it!" Adora exclaimed. "She keeps telling us we're not gonna be five years old forever, so we should do less sleeping and more playing!"_

_"But sleeping's so nice," Catra whined._

_"But playing's even nicer," Adora replied, tugging on Catra's arm once more. "Come on, let's go do **something**."_

_"Okay, okay," Catra said, letting herself get pulled up by Adora. "What should we do?"_

_Adora crossed her arms, wracking her brain for something to do. "Hmmm..." Suddenly, her eyes brightened. "I know! There's this cool place I want to show you, but it's super secret, so don't say anything about it!"_

_"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," Catra promised_._**Not like I have any other people to talk to, **Catra thought glumly, her heart aching dully._

_"All right, then let's go!" Adora said, taking Catra's arm and immediately bolting off, Catra being dragged along behind her. As they ran, Catra looked around at the emerald field they were in, watching the rolling hills race by as the two children ran._

_**The Fright Zone may seem... well, frightening, but even frightening places can have something beautiful if you look hard enough, **Shadow Weaver would say to the kids she took in. Catra had once thought she was just saying that to make them feel better, but it turns out she was right the whole time. That made her better than most adults. Most adults never told the truth._

_Catra snapped from her thoughts as she realized her and Adora had gone into a forest, the hills behind them being swallowed up by the trees. Adora began to slow down, still holding onto Catra tightly. Despite the thrill of adventure, a pang of fear struck Catra's heart as she looked around the dark forest._

_"Um, Adora?" Catra whimpered. "Are we lost?"_

_"No, it's just **really **deep in the forest," Adora explained. "And besides, if we were lost, we'd be fine," she assured Catra. "Shadow Weaver would come save us from any bad monster or princess that tries to harm us!"_

_"R-right!" Catra agreed, her curiosity squashing her fear as the two forged on ahead, the dense forest forcing them to go much slower than previously, clamboring over fallen trees and stepping carefully over some big rocks. Each step they took made Catra more excited. It felt like they were on a real adventure!_

_Suddenly, Adora stopped, turning to Catra. "So, I need to cover your eyes," she said sheepishly. "I want to make the surprise super cool, so..."_

_Catra nodded. "Alright. Just make sure I don't fall, okay?"_

_"Of course," Adora said, "Now, close your eyes, and I'll cover them."_

_Catra oblidged, closing her eyes as tight as she could. A moment later, Adora's hands softly covered Catra's eyes and the two started forward, even slower than before so Catra wouldn't get hurt. Truthfully, Catra was a little bit scared, but she had faith in Adora. After all, she was the only friend she had, and Adora had sworn she and Catra would be together forever._

_After a minute or so of walking, Adora stopped. "We're here," she said in Catra's ear as she removed her hands. "Go ahead and open your eyes."_

_Hesitantly, Catra opened her eyes and gasped with excitement. Before her was a clearing, but it wasn't just any old clearing. Around the clearing were white flowers, pristine as snow, surrounding a pond so still, it seemed like a mirror. Indeed, the water reflected the moons and sky with perfect clarity. In complete awe, Catra walked in, careful to not disturb the peace of the clearing._

_"What do you think?" Adora asked._

_"It's so...," Catra breathed, struggling to find words to comprehend the place._

_"Yeah, that's what I said when I first came here," Adora said, smiling._

_Catra whirled to Adora. "How'd you even find this place?" she asked._

_Adora shrugged. "I was exploring earlier this week and came across it," she explained. "I thought it was cool and wanted to show you."_

_"I...," Catra found herself at a loss for words._

_"No need to thank me," Adora interrupted, placing a hand on Catra's shoulder and squeezing gently. "Now come on, let's see what's in the pond."_

_Catra nodded, following Adora to the edge of the pond. Looking into the clear water, Catra couldn't see anything but her reflection; a small child with spiky grey-brown hair, twitchy black cat ears, and a pair of angular, catlike eyes, one turquoise and one yellow. In comparison to Adora's blond hair and blue eyes, Catra looked __out of place next to her, a thought that weighed on her heart for a moment before it suddenly dissapeared._

_"I __just see myself and you," Catra said after a while, a little confused._

_"Exactly," Adora said. "Nothing else is here but us. Like I said, a secret."_

_Catra's eyes lit up. "Awesome!" she exclaimed, looking at Adora excitedly._

_"Yeah it is!" Adora replied just as excitedly. "Now, I have something else to give you, a birthday gift," Adora added, approaching Catra. "I'll go get it, but you need to wait here, okay?"_

_Catra nodded. "Okay!"_

_Smiling brightly, Adora gave Catra a pat on the shoulder before dashing off into the trees, leaving Catra alone in the clearing. Smiling to herself, she approached the pond once more, staring at her mirror image. "Adora and I are gonna be best friends forever!" Catra mumbled to herself, watching the excitement in her eyes copy over to the reflection. Laughing to herself, she touched the still pond, making ripples on the surface._

_As the pond rippled, the world followed suit, the sky above changing to a burnt orange while the moons soared through the sky. As the ripples faded, the world became stable once more as twelve-year-old Catra looked down at her reflection, wondering where exactly her smile went in the seven years since she and Adora found this place._

_A small rustling in the trees drew Catra's attention, followed by a shout of "Hey, Catra!" from Adora as she walked into the clearing. "Hey, Adora," Catra greeted with a wave, still watching her reflection._

_"I see you're watching the pond again," Adora said, crouching down next to her friend. "Thinking about the past?"_

_Catra nodded. "Yep,"_ _she replied, brushing her bangs from her face. "Trying to figure out when everything suddenly flipped upside down.__" She let out a sigh, cat ears lowering. "I thought that looking in a mirror would help, but it didn't do much."_

_Adora looked into the pond, watching her reflection. "I know how that feels," she said. "It feels like everything's changing, but it's changing so fast I can barely keep up."_

_"Really?" Catra scoffed. "You've just gotten more popular the older we get, while I get kicked into the ground, treated like a beast constantly." She absentmindedly pulled on the gauze on her feet. "I had to steal this gauze from the infirmary to cover the blisters I got a few days ago."_

_Shock filled Adora's face. "I... I didn't know that happened to you. I'm sorry."_

_"Yeah, well, you probably wouldn't have been able to help me anyway," Catra huffed. "The infirmary staff would have gotten all pissy and ran to Shadow Weaver, and I would've taken the fall anyway."_

_Adora fell silent, looking back down into the still pond. "It's not fair, Catra," she finally said. "You shouldn't have had to go through all that just to get some gauze."_

_"Well, life ain't fair," Catra replied. "If it was, we wouldn't have been orphaned, would we?"_

_"I suppose not," Adora conceded with a sigh. "But today isn't about that," she added, holding out a small, unkempt package to Catra. "Today, it's about you turning twelve and nothing else."_

_"So what's this?" Catra asked, taking the package, running her hand over the mess of tape and paper. "Something good, I assume?"_

_Adora shrugged. "A little something I wanted to make, as a symbol of our friendship." She nodded to the package. "Open it, I promise it's better than what the wrapping tells you."_

_Sliding out one of her claws, Catra began to cut through the tape, making sure she didn't accidentally damage the present inside. Carefully unwrapping the paper, Catra pulled out her present; a brown headdress, simple in design, with catlike ears at the top, black slits similar to eyes, and two points that jutted toward the center of the headdress._

_"I know it's not super flashy, but I think it suits you," Adora said, her attention focused on Catra's face._

_A smile broke out on Catra's face as she stared at the headdress in her hands. It wasn't the same smile she had in her youth,__ but it was a smile nonetheless. Flipping the headdress around, Catra pulled back her bangs and placed the accessory on her head, adjusting it slightly._

_"How is it?" Adora asked expectantly._

_"It's a little big," Catra admitted, "but I really like it." She looked at Adora, still smiling. "Thanks a lot, Adora."_

_Adora seemed to brighten, an invisible weight leaving her shoulders. "I'm glad you like it." She shifted uncomfortably. "I was honestly a little worried that you wouldn't," she admitted, playing with her ponytail._

_"Adora, my week has been utter hell," Catra said, meeting Adora's gaze. "I've had more insults and jeers than ever before, and the blisters on my feet were in constant pain because no one would help me." She placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "There is absolutely no way that I wouldn't like the gift you got me after all that."_

_Adora didn't seem convinced. "But-"_

_"But **nothing**," Catra interrupted. "Look, you're the only person in the entire world that even gives a damn about me." She motions to the headdress. "You're the only person who got me a gift for my birthday, because you're the only person that remembered, so quit thinking about what could have happened, alright?"_

_Adora slowly nodded. "Okay... okay." She flashed a small smile. "And I thought I was supposed to be the one to cheer you up."_

_Catra shrugged. "I guess I couldn't resist making sure you stay the cheery one." She gave a little smirk. "Being all bitter is my thing, you know."_

_"You shouldn't be bitter all the time, you know," Adora cautioned. __"That's no way to live, and honestly...I'm a little concerned that it'll destroy you."_

_Catra was about to give a snarky reply, but the worry in Adora's tone stopped her. "I'll do what I can, but it won't be easy for me," she said, looking away._

_"All I'm asking is for you to try, okay?"_ _Adora_ _pleaded. "For me?"_

_"Yeah," Catra nodded. "I'll try."_

_"...Okay," Adora said, voice almost a whisper. "Now, let's head back."_

_"You go," Catra said, nodding to the trees. "I'll be here a little longer."_

_Adora nodded, standing from her crouch and heading toward the trees, leaving Catra alone with the pond once more, her only company the reflection in the still water. Watching herself in the water,_ _Catra again wondered where her childhood went, and why she always got the short end of the stick at every turn. "Well, as long as Adora and I stick together, I'll be more than fine," she said, running her hand through the pond, the world shifting once more._

_When the world came back to equilibrium, it was complete chaos around sixteen-year-old Catra. The sky had turned a deep crimson, the moons were eclipsed, and fire raged in the trees around the clearing. Despite this, Catra was laughing, admiring the blood splattering her face and claws in the now dark pool._

_A distinct crunching from behind drew Catra's attention as Adora scrambles into the clearing, her breathing labored. Standing from her crouch, Catra turns to her old friend, smiling wickedly, her claws outstretched and dripping blood, eyes meeting Adora's frightened stare._

_"Catra...," Adora's voice broke as tears welled up in her eyes. "What **happened **to you?"_

_"What happened?" Catra asked,_ _almost surprised. "Nothing happened, Adora, I simply embraced what I've always been."_

_"What are you talking about?" Adora asked, her tone wavering._

_Catra rolled her eyes. "I became a monster, Adora," she said. "I became the beast, and it was the best thing I'd ever done." She looked down at herself, at the blood coating her clothes. "__I feel more free now than ever before, and all I had to do was let go."_

_Adora set her lips into a thin line. "This isn't right, Catra," she cried, clenching her fists. "Stop this, please. It's not too late for you to come back to your senses."_

_Catra pondered that for a moment. "Maybe it's not too late for me," she conceded, "but it is far too late for those friends of yours."_

_Adora's face drained of all color. "...What?"_

_The look of sheer horror on Adora's face sparked a sick feeling in Catra's stomach, but it was forced down by a wave of wild satisfaction. "You see, Adora," Catra smirked, holding up a bloodied hand, "I played a game of hide-and-seek with your little Rebellion friends."_ _Her smirk grew into a toothy grin. "Guess who won."_

_"...Where are they?" Adora asked carefully, already dreading the answer._

_Catra pointed a crimson finger upward. "Decorating the trees."_

_Slowly, Adora looked into the trees, her eyes widening__ as she saw two bodies hanging in the trees. The first body was almost certainly Glimmer, her pink and purple hair matted with blood, her body covered in deep, violent gashes. The other body, then, had to be Bow, his dark skin and ivory armor marred with the same garish wounds, recent enough to still be dripping blood onto the ground below._

_"Catra..." Adora choked out. "Catra, how could you-"_

_Her words were cut short as Catra charged, tackling Adora __and pinning her against the bloodsoaked grass._ _For a second, Adora struggled to break free, but Catra held her down easily, her iron grip keeping her friend-turned-enemy against the ground._

_"Catra, let me go," Adora said, a bit of bite to her voice. "Let me go and turn__ yourself in. Repent, and maybe...maybe you'll be granted a swift execution."_

_Catra broke out into a fit of ugly, humorless laughter. "Do you honestly think that'll make me go to your leader all meek and remorseful?" she cackled wildly. "Are you really that fucking gullible?"_

_"I'm giving you a chance to make things right, Catra," Adora snapped in return. "Your sins are too numerous to wash away, but you can at least face death-"_

_A yelp of pain cut off Adora's words as Catra struck, leaving four bleeding gashes across her cheek__. "__You seem to be confused, Adora," Catra crooned sweetly. "See, I'm not the one dying," She held up her bloodied claws shimmering._

_"You are."_

_Fear shined in Adora's eyes as Catra violently raked her claws across Adora's chest. Before she had the chance to yelp, Catra slashed again, and again, and again, drawing blood with each slash. Unable to do anything else, Adora screamed in agony, watching Catra rip into her ferociously over and over again. When Adora thought the pain wouldn't end, Catra stopped for a moment, before reaching into her chest and pulling out Adora's heart, the organ still beating, albeit sluggishly._

_"This is it, Adora!" Catra cried victoriously. "This is where your pretty little journey ends!"_

_"Catra... please...," Adora said, feeling herself weaken._

_With a chilling smile__, Catra crushed the heart, blood spraying everywhere. Below her, Adora took one last breath, her lips trying to form a last word before the light left her eyes and she fell limp forever. Staring at her former friend's corpse, Catra began to laugh manically, looking toward the blood red sky as she celebrated cutting off the last vestige of her humanity._

**000**

Catra jolted awake, her breathing uneven and panicked as she looked around, finding herself back in the steel box that was her quarters. Sweat coated her, clinging to her skin and weighing down her clothes. Trying to control her breathing, Catra brushed some of her hair from her eyes, but stopped, confused. _My headdress isn't there, _Catra realized. _Where the hell is it?_

Climbing out of the bed, Catra searched around her room for the accessory. While she searched, her thoughts went back to the nightmare she had. Out of all the ones she had for the past few months, this was _definitely _the worst one she'd had to go through. Even thinking about it made her tense up, a sick feeling gathering in her gut. The feeling of ripping Adora apart with her claws was too close to reality for comfort, making the sweat on her feel a little too much like the blood of her best friend.

With that sickening thought, her stomach began to revolt, churning angrily. Cursing herself soundly, Catra shot into her adjoining bathroom, somehow managing to get over the toilet a second before she vomited, her hands clenching the metal sides tightly while she heaved violently. Each time her stomach seemed to settle, Adora's dead body flashed before her eyes, forcing her to vomit again and again until there was nothing but a yawning void in the pit of her stomach. Breathing heavily, Catra lifted a quivering hand to the side of the toilet, weakly pulling against the lever and watching the water carry away everything her stomach forced out of her.

Taking a few more deep breaths, Catra managed to force herself onto unsteady legs, her arms almost giving out from the effort. Carefully, she turned to the sink, leaning against it while she kept breathing, trying hard not to throw up again. After a few minutes of nothing, Catra let out a careful sigh of relief, her arms no longer shaking violently. Turning on the faucet, Catra reached a hand underneath the stream of water, enjoying the coldness on her uncomfortably warm skin before splashing some onto her face, attempting to clear her mind of that awful nightmare.

"Dammit, get a hold of yourself, Catra," she grumbled to herself. "You're the Horde second-in-command, the right hand of Lord Hordak himself. These nightmares are _nothing _to you." She repeated these words over and over before looking to the mirror, expecting to see herself some vestige of herself, with her prideful smirk and the small glint of mischief in her eyes.

Instead, she was faced with nothing but a hollow reflection, one that shared her face but nothing of her soul. The reflection's lips were set in a thin line, its eyes so empty that Catra's heart skipped a beat. Was this _her_? Was this empty, soulless creature really the same person as Catra? It seemed like a joke, and yet...there it was, clear as day. That reflection was Catra, stripped of all her pride and all her arrogance, leaving behind a weak, hollow shell of a girl.

A spark of rage pulsed through Catra as she shattered the mirror with a vicious punch, watching the shards spill onto the cold steel floor. _What the hell did I do to deserve this? _Catra screamed into her mind. _What kind of fucked god made today the **one **day where everything wants to just tear me into pieces?_

Immediately, the headdress was pushed out of her thoughts as memories of how she treated Adora filled her mind, how Catra constantly abandoned her, hurt her, left her to fend for herself. With each new thought, Catra slowly came to a conclusion, one she'd tried to push out of her mind for a very long time, ever since Adora had left the Horde.

"...I'm the screw up," Catra slowly admitted to herself, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. "Adora left because...well, hell, I deserve to be left." A short laugh escaped her throat. "She'd found greener pastures and took her chance, and now she's living it up as a princess while I...while I..."

The fist she put into the mirror began to quiver as tears slowly ran down her face. In that moment, Catra was glad the walls were soundproofed as she broke down, her entire body shaking with suppressed guilt that poured out with every ugly sob until she was nothing more than a kitten curled up in the corner of her bathroom, the steel wall the only thing keeping her company.

She didn't get much sleep that night.

**000**

**_AN_****_: I'll be honest, writing Catra's suffering really hurt my soul. However, I felt that it was needed to establish everything Catra needs to work through. I also tried to use this chapter to clear up a few things, so I hope I did well with that._**

**_Anyway, the next chapter will be all about the Hollows, which I'm real excited to do. So, thanks for reading and I'll see you next time._**


	3. The Hollow

**_AN: Welcome back to The Hollowed of Etheria, everyone. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and I hope you enjoy today's chapter, which is about the Hollow, one of my own locations and a big part of the overarching plot. As such, I own each OC I put in the Hollow, along with the Hollow itself. Of course; any characters from the main show belong to Dreamworks._**

**_I also want to directly apologize for how long this chapter took, since the last chapter was a few months ago. Long story short, school got in the way which, in combination with my laziness, made it a struggle to finish. As such, I hope this chapter was worth the wait._**

**_Without further ado, let's start the chapter._****000**

The last thing Kyle expected to hear was the chirp of birds.

If he was honest with himself, Kyle thought he would awaken back on his old cot in the Horde, the events of his escape only a dream. The birds shattered that thought, along with the complete lack of the dreaded morning alarm he hated so much. It truly seemed that he had survived his escape and had been taken somewhere. The question was: where was he taken to?

Opening his eyes blearily, Kyle found himself in what he believed to be a bedroom, but it was unlike any bedroom he'd ever seen. The walls were a cozy brown, a far cry from the cold steel of his old barracks. The bed was also far more comfortable than his old cot, with actual linen sheets as opposed to the sad scrap of cloth he used in the Horde. Shifting under the covers, Kyle immediately regretted moving as a sharp wave of pain stabbed into his ribcage.

"If this is what freedom from the Horde feels like," Kyle winced, tenderly feeling his side, "I'd rather be thrown around by robots again."

Carefully, Kyle slipped out of the bed, ignoring the burning in his ribs as he limped toward the door. Moving into the hallway, Kyle placed his weight against the wall, quietly shuffling toward the staircase. As he descended, a small part of his mind told him that he was being paranoid, that he was no longer in the Horde and had nothing to fear, but Kyle learned from his time in the Horde that he'd rather be paranoid than dead.

As Kyle reached the bottom of the stairs, a foreign yet enticing scent entered his nose, drawing out a loud growl from his stomach. His paranoia suddenly spiking, Kyle quickly moved to the opposite wall, ribs protesting as he pressed his back to it, eyes and ears straining to pick out anything out of place. After a few tense moments of silence, Kyle let out a low, quiet breath before slowly creeping down the hall toward the source of the delectable smell: an open door with a warm glow emanating from inside. Reaching the doorway, Kyle took a moment to steel himself before leaning out, examining the room.

The room seemed to be a small dining room, painted the same brown as the bedroom Kyle was in, brightened by the morning light streaming through the windows. A mahogany table stood in the center of the room, laden with food- rolls, meats, tarts and jams- and surrounded by strangely vacant chairs. Scanning the room, Kyle found no evidence of anyone in the room, something that both confused and worried him.

_Where is everyone? _Kyle thought, slipping into the room. _Surely this has to be for some sort of feast or something, unless...it's for me? _He shook his head, banishing that hopeful thought as he moved toward the table. _No...there's too much food here for one person. And besides, who'd be that nice to someone like me?_

When he was within a few paces of the table, Kyle stopped, staring at the food before him. His stomach complained, begging for him to take something, but he couldn't help but wonder if this was some sort of beautiful trap meant to drop his guard. That fear kept him rooted to the spot, smothering his hunger with a fresh wave of paranoia.

"Morning," a cheery voice greeted from behind. "Sleep well?"

Kyle jumped, whirling to find a man in brown pajamas casually leaning on the doorframe, smiling earnestly, his grey eyes sparkling with life behind a mess of ginger hair. Pushing himself off the wall, the man strolled past Kyle and took a seat at the table. "Please, have a seat," he said, motioning to the other empty chairs.

Reluctantly, Kyle made his way to a chair, sitting carefully so as to not further agitate his aching ribs. Looking up, he noticed the man watching intensely. "What's wrong?" Kyle asked, snapping the man into reality.

"I'm wondering who in their right mind would wander around with a few broken ribs rather than staying in bed," the man said, meeting Kyle's eyes. "Then again, the Horde isn't too kind to its child soldiers, are they?"

Kyle's heart leapt into his throat. "H-how-"

"You were wearing a Horde shirt when I found you," the man explained. "It wasn't too difficult to figure out what happened." Before Kyle could respond, the man raised a hand. "Relax, I don't want to hurt you. In fact, I want to help you, and that starts with this."

Reaching into a pocket, the man pulled out a small glass vial filled with a green, glowing fluid. Glancing at the vial for a moment, he held it out to Kyle. "Drink this, it'll heal you."

Reluctantly, Kyle took the vial from the man's grasp, staring at it with a level of disbelief, in part because he never expected anyone to be nice to him, and in part because he didn't think such a small potion could fix anything major. Perhaps it would somehow soothe the pain, make it easier to manage for the time being. Making up his mind, Kyle unstopped the vial and downed the contents in one swallow.

The first thing Kyle noticed was the surprising taste of the potion. Rather than being the bitter medicine he'd used so many times in the Horde, the potion had a sour flavor, balanced out by a hint of sweetness. Instantly, the pain in his ribs lessed to a dull throbbing ache, something that Kyle greatly enjoyed. "Wow, that helped a lot," Kyle said. "Thank you."

The man looked away somewhat awkwardly. "It's not done yet."

Kyle tilted his head in confusion. "What do you-" he started, the words dying as he felt a shift inside him, directly followed by a wave of nausea so violent he nearly collapsed. Managing to keep on his feet, Kyle tensed as the shifting continued, the movement worsening the ill feeling in his stomach with each passing moment. When the feeling grew so strong Kyle was sure he'd hurl, several somethings popped into place like puzzle pieces, the nausea vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

"I'm sorry I didn't mention exactly what would happen once you took the potion," the man said as Kyle recovered. "Unfortunately, I was fairly certain you wouldn't take it if I said that, so I had to take a bit of a gamble." He looked down to his hands, shame plastered on his face. "Again, I'm sorry for the deception."

Kyle stared at him, mouth slightly agape. "...What did you say?"

The man looked to Kyle, confused. "What do you mean?" His eyes widened as the realization struck. "Oh...you must not have heard many sorrys in the Horde, huh?"

Kyle simply nodded. That was an understatement. Not once in his entire sixteen years had he heard anyone utter anything close to an apology toward him. Normally it was either some sort of insult, getting beaten to a pulp, or some combination of the two. No one batted an eye or stopped to help him. Sometimes they even _helped_ the person hurting him, or sometimes they just laughed, watching as the scrawny little kid got bruised and broken, before they left him lying on the ground, alone and sobbing and-

A firm hand gripped his shoulder. "Hey, look at me," the man ordered gently.

Kyle oblidged him, hating the tears that clouded his vision, hating how weak he was. He couldn't even accept an apology without falling apart, so why-

"Stop thinking like that, alright?" Kyle twitched in surprise as the words interrupted his thoughts, laying them bare. "I brought you in because you needed help." A tissue swept across Kyle's cheeks, wiping away the tears. "Besides, there's no shame in crying. Sometimes you just need to get everything out, you know?"

Kyle nodded again. "Y-yeah...I've done that more than a few times in the Horde."

For a moment, something like anger flickered in the man's eyes, though it vanished as soon as it had appeared. "Well, the only things I can give you is well wishes, a place to stay, and..." The man motioned to the food. "Something to get your strength back." He sat once again. "That is, if you don't mind some company."

Kyle thought for a moment. "I don't mind," he said reluctantly, taking a seat.

"Then I suppose introductions are in order," the man said, picking up a tart with a red center. "My name is Raphael, though you can shorten it to Raph if you prefer."

"I'm Kyle," Kyle answered. "It's nice to meet you."

Raphael nodded. "Likewise," he said, smiling warmly.

Kyle nodded, turning his attention to the spread of food before him, almost entranced by the colors and scents of everything on the table. However, like before, he remained rooted to his seat, fear coiled around his heart as his mind filed through the thousand different reasons someone would want to help him. "What's your angle, Raphael?" Kyle finally asked.

"Huh?" Raphael asked, "What do you mean, 'angle'?"

Kyle pointed to his damaged Horde shirt. "Normally someone wouldn't be sticking their neck out for some scrawny Horde kid that nearly got himself killed," he said. "So why did you decide to help me?"

Raphael put down his tart, considering the question. "Well...I was like you once," he began. "I was a member of the Horde a long time ago, alongside my twin sister Hypatia. Eventually, we managed to escape, nearly got ourselves killed, and finally made it here."

"And where is 'here', exactly?" Kyle asked. "Are we still in the Whispering Woods?"

"I promise to show you everything I can, but you _need _to eat," Raphael pushed, the words tinged with genuine concern. "I'll be honest, with how gaunt you look, it's a miracle you haven't died yet, so could you at least humor me and eat something?"

In response, Kyle pulled back a torn sleeve and stared at his arm, pale and painfully thin as it was from his years in the Fright Zone. Realizing Raphael's words rang true, Kyle reached across the table, plucking a tart from one of the plates and biting into it. As soon as the sweetness of what Kyle assumed was apple touched his tongue, he'd already scarfed down the treat and reached for another, and another, until every single apple tart had disappeared from the table.

Pulling himself back to reality, Kyle scratched the back of his head nervously. "Sorry, I should have saved some for you."

Raphael waved dismissively. "You need it more than I do. Besides, there's plenty to go around, so help yourself."

Nodding gratefully, Kyle looked around the selection of food, trying to decide which one to try next, all while a little thought flashed in the back of his mind.

_This is the first time I've been happy._

**000**

_Raphael seems like a nice guy, _Kyle thought as he rooted through the wardrobe of his new bedroom. _I mean, he didn't just throw me out, __so that has to count for something, right? _

After a few moments of rummaging, Kyle found what he was looking for: a slate grey long sleeved shirt. Shedding his ratty Horde shirt and tossing it into a pile in a far corner of the room, Kyle slipped on the new shirt, basking in its warmth for a moment before closing the wardrobe and studying himself in the mirror, the shirt complimenting the drab black of his new pants and boots. It would hardly make an impression, which was exactly what Kyle was counting on. The less people paid attention to him, the better, and there always was a chance that a Horde agent could be hunting him at this very moment. Being incognito, then, was his best bet.

Leaving his bedroom, Kyle found Raphael near the front door, dressed in a clean white shirt, dark trousers, and well worn boots, with a pair of coats draped over his arm. Handing one to Kyle, Raphael slipped his own coat on, grey eyes clouded in thought as he absentmindedly rubbed his wrist.

Kyle tapped him on the shoulder. "You okay?" he asked carefully.

Raphael heaved a sigh. "Look, I know you barely know me, but I need you to promise me something." At Kyle's nod, he continued. "If you decide to leave, what you see here must be kept a secret for the rest of your life. You tell anyone about this place, and people will die, understand?"

Kyle's blood froze. "What...what do you mean?"

"The Horde and Rebellion will shred this place to gain even the barest hint of an advantage over the other," Raphael replied, his eyes dark. "They'll slaughter everyone, and the last safe haven in the war will vanish forever." His eyes met Kyle's, almost boring into him. "That is why you must tell _no one_ about this place."

"...I won't," Kyle promised.

Raphael nodded, the darkness fleeing from his eyes. "Thank you...I know I'm asking a lot, forcing you to make a promise when you don't even trust me, so thank you."

Kyle shrugged on his coat. "It's the least I can do," he said simply.

"Either way, I'm grateful," Raphael replied. "Now, I suppose it's time for me to show you where we are." He opened the door, cool winter air shoving its way inside the house. "After you."

Nodding, Kyle stepped through the door, the cold already stinging his cheeks as he looked around the clearing of pine trees. The sky was grey with clouds, light flakes of snow twisting through the air, following the path of the wind. Closing his eyes, Kyle breathed in the crisp air, enjoying the near quiet of the world around him. A small part of him piped up, still not convinced that this was really happening, but Kyle pushed it away, determined to hold on these moments as best he could.

The click of the door locking brought Kyle back to reality. "Not a lot of snow today," Raphael said, a snowflake dropping into his outstretched hand.

"Better than the Kingdom of Snows," Kyle replied, sliding his hands into the coat's pockets. "It was a lot more...messy last time I was there."

"Well, it _is_ the Kingdom of Snows," Raphael pointed out as they began to walk.

Kyle huffed out a small laugh. "Well, yeah, but...I meant something else." For a moment, the memory of those days crashed into Kyle, from the capture of Bow and Glimmer, the relentless torture of the Bright Moon princess, the panic he himself felt when he went behind the back of the Horde to help Bow, only to be betrayed not even a minute after. All those emotions raged within him, but Kyle kept his expression as neutral as possible. He didn't want to have another breakdown, and he _certainly_ didn't want to burden anyone else with his problems anymore than he has.

"Well trust me, this place is a lot better," Raphael said with a smile, patting Kyle on the shoulder.

"Well, what is this place?" Kyle asked, grateful that he changed the subject.

Raphael shrugged. "It's...different from the rest of the world, to put it one way." He looked ahead on the path. "You'll see once we get out of this forest."

Kyle nodded, falling silent as he retreated into his thoughts. He still had absolutely no idea why anyone would go out of his way to help him, much less talk to him. Back in the Horde, it was always "survival of the fittest", and lots of kids weren't fit enough to survive. In fact, if Adora wasn't part of his cadet squad, Kyle would be dead a thousand times over without the handicaps and extra training Shadow Weaver gave them through her prized cadet. It was lucky, if being trained to become cannon fodder in an endless war was lucky. Still, they were better trained cannon fodder than the rest, which was the only reason Kyle managed to escape the Horde, which was at least one thing he could be thankful for.

After a seemingly endless walk, the pine trees finally started to recede, revealing a towering wall formed from what seemed to be metal, but not any metal Kyle had ever seen. Rather than the crude steel of the Horde, this was smooth and pristine, lines like circuits weaving up and down the length of the wall. The gate before them was a translucent shield, energy pulsing across it in ripples. As Raphael approached the gate, the shield faded into light, revealing a long hallway.

"First Ones tech," Raphael explained as they walked though the gate. "It works like a massive biometric scanner, allowing unrestricted access to those in the database."

Kyle nodded. "But where, exactly, are we?" he asked, changing the subject.

Raphael pointed forward. "See for yourself."

Exiting the hall, Kyle's jaw almost dropped to the floor as he was greeted with a city that, for once, was almost similar to the Fright Zone. Like the Horde, the place before him seemed almost patchwork, as if everyone here didn't actually belong, but was simply forced together. Salinean seashell houses stood alongside Dryl machinery, while Plumerian flora mixed with the crystalline shapes of the Kingdom of Snows in a kind of strange collage. People of all kinds roamed the streets, from merchants and artisans to fishermen and mechanics, all just as disparate as the buildings surrounding them.

"Welcome to the Hollow, Kyle," Raphael said, walking beside Kyle. "Home of those who've lost everything."

Kyle turned to Raphael with a start. "Everything?" he echoed quietly, following behind Raphael.

Raphael nodded slowly. "All of the people here haven't come of their own accord," he explained. "This war between the Horde and the Rebellion has stolen too many lives." He sighed mournfully, looking to Kyle. "That's why this place exists. Everyone who has nothing in this world comes here, rebuilds their lives from nothing." Raphael motions to the buildings. "It's why this place is cobbled together. Everyone builds from what they know, from whatever kingdom they came from."

Kyle looked to the ground, counting the stones under his feet. "How many people are here?" he asked finally.

"Last I remember, it was a good thirty thousand," Raphael replied. "Thirty thousand people who've gone through hell, their old lives nothing but ash." His expression darkened as he looked to the sky. "That's to say nothing of the countless others in this world who weren't so lucky to escape with their lives," he added bitterly.

Kyle looked up to Raphael, seeing the pain etched across his features clear as day. _This world really isn't fair to anyone, _Kyle realized with a start. For the longest time, he'd assumed that the people in the Fright Zone always had the short straw, what with most of the population being soldiers kidnapped as kids and forced into war as expendable cannon fodder without lives of their own. Now, even seeing a small slice of this hidden city, Kyle wondered if being a lifeless grunt was a kind of mercy. Without any life to worry about, the average Horde soldier could easily let themselves die because...well, what_ did _they really have except endless battles and a short life? Meanwhile, everyone else had a life and a future, all crushed underneath a horrible machine of war. In the end, it seemed everyone lost, doomed to death and nothing else.

Bolstered by this realization, Kyle forced himself back to reality, forced himself to look at the passersby. Strangely, all of them seemed to slump under an unseen weight, something that made Kyle's jaw clench. _It's not right, _he thought, heart thundering. _No one should carry that __around with them__. _His hands shook, yet the cold was hardly bothering him. Instead, Kyle realized with no small amount of surprise, he was _furious_. Furious at the unfainess of the world, furious at the war, furious at the hopelessness the people carried with them.

"What do I need to do to stop this?" The words were out of Kyle's mouth before he'd even realized he'd spoken.

Raphael glanced toward Kyle, his brow furrowing. "What are you asking?"

"What do I have to do to help these people?" Kyle asked, his voice tinged with anger. "How do I stop this war from hurting them?"

Raphael whirled toward Kyle. "No," he said, eyes wide. "Kyle, you're just a kid," he continued, placing a hand on Kyle's shoulder. "You can't be involved in this war."

"Why not?" Kyle questioned. "You know that it needs to end, and you need all the help you can get."

Raphael shook his head vigorously. "_No_, Kyle," he said again, more forcefully. "You deserve a good life, a safe life after the Horde."

Kyle pointed to the passersby. "They deserve a good life too," he responded. "I'm part of the reason why they're here," he added, voice trembling with barely chained emotion.

"You're not, Kyle," Raphael replied, both his hands now upon Kyle's shoulders. "You're a victim of this war, just as much as they are."

Kyle shook his head. "I'm not innocent," he said quietly. "I've helped the Horde take from this world and hurt its people. I need to atone for that," he added, meeting Raphael's eyes.

Raphael stopped for a moment, sorrow filling his eyes. "You're far too young to atone," he almost whispered.

Kyle nodded. "I know," he replied just as quietly, "But I want to fight. I _have _to."

"...Can you fight? How well did the Horde train you?"

"Sixteen years of 'special' training, courtesy of Shadow Weaver."

Raphael let out a sigh. "Alright," he said reluctantly. "Alright, there is a way for you to fight, but...Kyle, it's incredibly dangerous. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Kyle nodded instantly. "Whatever it is, I'll do it."

Slowly, Raphael nodded. "I suppose we'll leave the tour of the Hollow for later," he mused. "Well, follow me," he said, walking briskly.

After a moment of hesitation, Kyle followed.

**000**

The air was tense between Raphael and Kyle as they tread through the forest outside of the Hollow. Unlike the woods the pair had walked through to get to the hidden city, this patch of forest was darker, almost choking out the light of the moons hanging above. The usual sounds of the forest were rendered silent except for the crunching leaves and snapping twigs echoing throughout the woods. Despite the total lack of anything around them, Kyle felt uncomfortable in the quiet, his eyes darting around the woods, searching for anything creeping through the empty woods.

"You'll get used to these woods after a while," Raphael said casually. "These trees are tied to the Whispering Woods, so they won't do anything so long as you bear no ill will toward the place they're protecting."

Strangely, hearing this calmed Kyle. At least the Whispering Woods were a sort of familiar mystery rather than something completely unknown he'd have to contend with. As for Raphael's mention of the trees "protecting" something, Kyle assumed it was likely a First Ones site, considering many were supposedly hidden inside the depths of the magical woods. If the same sort of trees were here, then one of those sites would be here too.

Sure enough, the ground slowly changed from dirt and fallen branches to cold sheets of ancient metal as the trees slowly dwindled in number, the light of the daymoons shimmering through the canopy of gnarled trees. Before the pair was a massive rock face, fitted with a smooth triangular door crafted from the same strange metal as every other First Ones site. However, this place seemed a lot less grandiose, with vines and dying leaves surrounding the door rather than the bright circuits and opulent colors marking the others. Even the door was simple, cut into three portions and made of what seemed to be dark bronze, as if even the door wanted to blend into the dead forest around it.

"Here we are," Raphael said, nodding to the door. "Not what you expected, is it?"

Kyle shrugged. "It's a little...different from what I expected," he admitted sheepishly.

"Well, that's the point of this particular site," Raphael explained as he approached the door. "It's meant to be hidden away from the rest of the world, just like the Hollow is." Placing his hand on the door, Raphael chanted something under his breath. Immediately, a mess of circuits glowed within the door, the pieces sliding away to reveal a passageway leading down into the darkness. Motioning to Kyle, Raphael started inside the doorway as the former Horde cadet scrambled to keep up.

As soon as the pair was inside the tunnel, the door quietly slid closed behind them as deep blue lights flickered to life, casting a bright glow across the passage. The usual circuits lined the walls, albeit lifeless within their cold shells of metal. Shivering, Kyle hugged his arms to his chest as they walked down the hall, wondering why in the world an advanced civilization wouldn't have a heater in their bunker.

At the end of the hall, the pair emerged into a massive circular room, silver circuits running up the tall metal columns like veins of ore. Above them was a collection of floating sapphire crystals, casting light into the room below. On the right was an open doorway flanked by a pair of silver statues, clad in flowing robes and simple, featureless masks that covered their faces entirely. Both had a single, elegant sword stabbed into the podium they stood upon, as if they were guardians of whatever lay inside the door.

"So, what do you think, Kyle?" Raphael asked, hands in his pockets.

Kyle looked around in awe. "It's...amazing," he breathed quietly. "Honestly, it feels like a dream."

Raphael nodded in agreement. "That's the thing about the First Ones, they always find ways to be extravagant, even if it's just an entry hall."

Kyle's head snapped to Raphael. "This is just the entrance hall?" he asked, dumbfounded. "This room is more expensive than all of the Horde combined!"

"That's why these places are so coveted, Kyle," Raphael explained. "They're relics of a time long past, filled with secrets of those who came before." Approaching one of the robed statues, Raphael knelt before the podium. "This particular relic just so happens to be a bunker, hidden from the rest of the world, made for those who would fight for Etheria."

"Is that what the statues are?" Kyle asked, his eyes gravitiating to the other model. "Are they protectors of Etheria?"

Raphael shrugged. "Of a sort," he replied, getting to his feet. "These statues are depictions of the first Hollowed of Etheria, a group of people who took it upon themselves to defend the world."

"The first?" Kyle inquired. "Are there more?"

Raphael motioned to the door between the statues. "Right down this way," he answered, stepping into the doorway.

Kyle followed behind into the new hallway, this one also lined with silver statues, albeit a far cry from the faceless protectors. Rather, these ones were unmasked, a plethora of unique faces peering down onto the pair. Each statue was also clad in an assortment of clothing from all parts of the world. Some wore the wave patterns and pearls of Salineas, while others wore Plumerian tunics and trousers, accented with stitches similar to vines. A few were clad in the thick, fur lined clothes of the Kingdom of Snows, and still others were wearing the pouch filled, element immune mechanic suits of Dryl.

"As you can tell, the Hollowed are from every single walk of life you can think of," Raphael explained, eyes sweeping over the statues. "Most times, the only thing they had in common was working to save the world."

"Did they? Save the world, I mean."

"Most times, they did," Raphael said. "A few times, they..." He trailed off into silence.

"They all died, didn't they?" Kyle finished for him. "Whatever they were fighting, it killed them."

"...Yes," Raphael agreed quietly. "They fell fighting for a world that may never even realize their sacrifice."

"So they died with no one remembering them?"

Raphael sighed. "It's something every Hollowed eventually comes to terms with, the fact that they may never have glory for their actions, no matter if they played a key part in saving the world." Slowly, he ran his hand along one of the statue's podiums. "At worst, they're erased from history, their acts only recorded here in the Memorial Hall."

"I'm used to that already," Kyle said bluntly, turning his gaze toward the unsung heroes immortalized in silver. "No one really remembers me unless it means putting me at fault."

Hurt flashed across Raphael's features. "Kyle, I-"

"Nevermind," Kyle interrupted quietly. "I shouldn't have placed my pain onto you."

"Wait, Kyle," Raphael's hand landed on Kyle's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up."

Kyle shrugged off the hand. "Like I said," he responded, his tone forlorn. "I'm used to it. There's no use for me crying about it again, you know?"

Raphael hesitated for a moment, searching for some way to comfort the former cadet. Unfortunately, nothing came to mind, only managing to say, "I suppose not."

Instantly, Kyle noticed the hesitation and sighed, casting his eyes downward as he continued through the hall, his somber gaze staring back at him on the polished metal floor. _Raphael doesn't need my personal problems__, _he thought. _He's already not happy with me wanting to fight in the war rather than living here, and adding onto that is just shoveling more fuel into the fire. _

With that sobering thought, Kyle hugged his arms to his chest, adding a slight shiver to make it seem like he was cold rather than closed off. He felt like a nuisance, all his past baggage dropped at the feet of someone he barely knew. It was hilariously pathetic how quickly Kyle's problems reared their ugly heads and ripped into him, pulling themselves to the surface the second he escaped the Horde. What kind of person would care about a kid who can't even have a conversation without bursting into tears at the sound of a simple "sorry"?

Almost instantly, the ugly thoughts piled up in his mind, thousands of little blades cutting into him, laughing as they took Kyle's heart and ripped it to shreds, filling him with the painful belittlement he crushed himself with over and over again, beating his spirit until the only thing he could feel was a dull, ceaseless pain in his chest, memories of how absolutely worthless he was flashing through his mind over and over until it felt like he was going to break down all over again and...

...And just like that, bitterness sparked within Kyle's chest as he took every one of those corrupt thoughts and shoved them back down, violently stomping them back into the furthest recesses of his mind. He knew this entire exercise was futile; the thoughts would always creep back into his mind when he would least expect it. Still, Kyle kept pushing against the wave of his dark thoughts, prying away their hold on him until they finally, reluctantly vanished back into their little box, just as the hallway finally opened up.

The first thing Kyle noticed about the room was that it was more of a grand hall than anything else. It was cylindrical, split up into three separate floors that hugged the metal walls, leaving the center of the space open. Lights were once again strewn about, though these ones were dead, nothing shining from within them.The roof was also shrouded in darkness, while the floor around the room was coated in a sea of star-shaped, pale white flowers swaying gently in a phantom breeze, alight with a soft white glow. The center of the room bore no flowers, but it did have a pedestal similar to a hand scanner, detailed with circuits that shimmered with a gentle light.

"This is the Hall of the Hollowed, Kyle," Raphael explained as the cadet gawked. "It's been the home base of the Hollowed for a thousand years, and an enduring symbol of the First Ones for far longer than any of us have been alive."

"So why the flowers?" Kyle pointed out. "Plants don't normally grow in underground bunkers."

"True, but these are special plants," Raphael said, plucking one of them from the tiny field. "They're called Etherian moonblossoms, a rare flora only found near First Ones sites." Gently, his fingers brushed against the ivory petals. "Apparently, they represent the purity of sacrifice, and so they became the symbol of the Hollowed."

Kyle nodded, looking around at the flowers. "I'm guessing they're surrounding the pedestal for a reason?" he asked, crouching to inspect the flowers closer.

"Yeah, it's what happens when the Hall 'sleeps'," Raphael confirmed. "It's been inactive since the Horde arrived, and so it protects all its secrets under this."

"So then I just put my hand on the pedestal?"

"You also say an oath," Raphael answered. "It's mostly formality, but it is the way to unlock the rest of this place." "That is," he added quickly, "if you're still willing to do this."

Kyle simply stood, approaching the pedestal and placing his hand upon its surface. Immediately, the pedestal glowed under his touch, light shooting between his fingers, reaching toward the darkened roof. At this, Raphael stepped to the front of the pedestal, his expression solemn as he clasped his hands before himself.

"Now, repeat after me," Raphael ordered softly. "'I, Kyle, will sacrifice my past in service to the world. I will hunt down the darkness which plagues this land, and I will smother it with the will of a people. I accept that my name may never be sung in the halls of legend, but my actions will forever shape the future of Etheria. I am a Hollowed, and may the world smile on our triumph.'"

Kyle repeated the oath, his eyes meeting Raphael's unflinchingly as his voice echoed across the hall, the light shimmering against his face making him seem almost divine as he spoke. A small voice at the back of his mind popped up, asking if this was truly the best choice, but Kyle ignored it. He _knew _doing this was the only way to strike for the throat of the Horde, to atone for all the crimes he'd ever committed, and more. If he didn't, guilt would consume him, eating away until he was nothing more than a shell. Not only that, Kyle would finally be able to prove he was worth something to the world, prove he might be able to accomplish something, even if no one in the world would thank him for it.

With the last words of the oath, the glow of the pedestal faded, snaking down into the floor beneath before fading into nothing as the moonblossoms glowed brighter, the floor almost swamped with pure light. Unclasping his hands, Raphael stepped closer to Kyle, face still solemn as he gazed at the former cadet.

"The oath has been struck," he said simply. "You are now the newest Hollowed of Etheria, and you will be personally trained by me and two of my closest associates." He held out his hand. "I look forward to working alongside you, Hollowed."

Kyle took the hand, shaking it briskly. "Then let's begin," he declared.

**_AN: Lo and behold, the chapter has finally come to a close after several months of writer's block and lack of motivation. Still, I think this turned out to be a good chapter to write, and I'm happy it finally finished._**

**_As per usual, tell me your thoughts, and I'll see you next time._**


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